


it’s been sixty weeks (since i saw vienna)

by far2late



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity-centric, Angst, Angst and Feels, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Crying, Demigods, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Major Character Injury, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Whump, Yelling, no beta i never beta ever, quackity deserves better - Freeform, real life minecraft verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27276892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late
Summary: requests and one-shots (heavily angst and hurt/comfort based) [closed while i catch up haha]
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Grayson | Purpled (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 477





	1. Chapter 1

hello! after a crippling amount of writers block i’ve decided to put this up. feel free to request anything you’d like to see, i have few limits when it comes to heavier topics including mental health. 

i’m not open to writing smut or particularly ship-based one-shots, but i won’t write the ones with relationships off completely. it’ll just take me a while to do them! 

as for tommy/tubbo shipping, i’m not comfortable writing it, nor am i comfortable writing something like r*pe, but anything else is alright with me. thank you for clicking on this!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now! I thinking just cliche hurt/comfort for purpled where idk I guess he feels left out and ignored by everyone and then it gets super fluffy and soft sbxksb"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont think i followed through with the fluff properly i am so so sorry and also sorry if this was supposed to be in the real life verse rather than the lmanberg verse but please take what i am offering T-T id be willing to do a second part if this isn't up to par

Purpled is never at the forefront of the wars when it comes to the conflict between L’manberg and Dream. 

It’s a habit of his now, to simply fade into the background when it comes to things involving his two best friends- (brothers?) and his big brother-esque figure, Dream, which was already a conflict of interest. Dream was always wary to let him into the fights that he would instigate, especially when they started losing their light-hearted touch. 

It wasn’t out of incompetence on Purpled’s part; he was an incredibly talented dueller, a truly skilled fighter when it came to tournaments of all kinds, running them since he was only fourteen. It had taken his toll on him, of course, but after Dream had found him and subsequently gotten incredibly attached, he had slowly been coaxed away from his reign of blood and fire and swords that cut too deep, showing bone and draining the life out of someone squirming between him with tear-filled eyes- 

Purpled had encountered Tommy and Tubbo for the very first time when he had made his way onto Dream’s land, recently purchased after his popularity in the fighting community had skyrocketed greatly. The payout from his wins was more than enough to safely acquire the acres of land for him and his close circle of friends. George had never really understood why the man would purchase so much land for the few of them that there were.

He had an idea why he had done it, Purpled had thought, watching Dream’s gaze follow his friends as they wandered off on their own. 

His and Tommy’s first interaction was nothing short of adrenaline-pumping. It was before Wilbur had truly come to their lands, when there were only a few of them who had been allowed on and the major buildings were only barely being built. The community house was still fresh and shiny, the nether portal-turning-volcano still showing promise. No castle overlooked the lands from its edge and no UFO was blocking out the sun from very particular angles. 

Tommy had burnt Tubbo’s house down back then, despite the two of them being friends. He didn’t think that it was that big of a deal between the two of them, but Tubbo was certainly fair in his want for reparations. The next couple of hours were admittedly, the most fun Purpled ever thought he had in his life. 

It was nothing compared to the competitiveness that the tournaments brought, nor was it comparable to sparring with Dream and George and Sapnap, Ponk and Punz on the odd occasion that the two were talkative and out on the path. The group of them were good friends of his, of course, but there was something different about the yelling and laughing when it was two kids like him, unknowing of his past reputation and treating him as they would any other. 

When the war had finally started, Purpled saw less and less of Tubbo, Tommy, and Dream. They had stopped coming to his UFO, Dream warning him away from the community house and their new country, dubbed L’manberg. It was his tired eyes at the end that had stopped Purpled from enquiring further, paired with the cold chills that had slowly started spreading up his fingers at the sight of the Netherite armour and weapons he donned. 

It had been months since Dream had visited him, and outside of those three, there was barely anyone that he had allowed up to his UFO. There was no one, nothing that he could take with him to even match the level of everyone else’s gear to even risk searching for Dream and the others. There were so many new people on L’manberg’s side that he wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t shoot him down on sight.

There was a reason Purpled never went above iron armour in most cases, keeping his supplies to the minimum needed for safe travels in the lands. The ever-popular tournaments had left a stronger impression on him than he had thought, despite stubbornly brushing it off time and time again. 

He hadn’t been around for the war’s ending, only hearing about it through George coming around to his UFO after a while. Purpled forced back his question about Dream, not wanting to bother the man’s friend. War was nothing to take lightly, after all. 

Purpled had been holed up in his UFO for much longer than was sustainable during the war, and it was slowly showing in lanky limbs where the skin stuck to his bones, eyes growing bags under them and clothes slipping off his shoulders if it was too large. It was disappointing especially when he found he had grown too small for Dream’s cloak to fit on him as comfortably as it did before. He couldn’t help the tears that burned in his eyes for a moment, rubbing them back forcefully. 

If he had hidden under his covers, clutching the cloak to his chest as explosions rang out over the lands, he didn’t mention it. There was no one to talk to, after all. 

Dream’s messages to him had slowly gotten more and more sparse, becoming snappier as he continued to message him every day. Purpled had taken the hint when he had been told that Dream was too busy for him by Sapnap. He was sure that the man hadn’t meant it harshly, but it hurt painfully nonetheless. He knew that he shouldn’t push for too much, he knew that the man was busy and that he had a kingdom to run, but it was  _ Dream.  _

The same Dream who had taken him in after finding him standing over the bloodied remains of another person just like him, softly grabbing his wrist and leading him away. The same Dream that had stripped his blood-stained armour off of him and wiped his face with a wet cloth. The same Dream who had comforted him through nightmares and near-deaths he re-lived with blank eyes and shaking hands. 

Purpled knew he was busy, but it had still  _ hurt.  _

His time in solitude had finally reached a peak when he had woken up with empty lungs and panicked breaths, clutching at a stab wound in his stomach that wasn’t there. Purpled couldn’t tell reality from nightmares, stumbling up from his bed and crashing into a chest as he reached for a communicator. 

With shaking hands, he sent a barely legible message to Dream begging for him to come to the UFO, eyes blurring the text on his screen as he fought to control his breathing, inevitably failing and crying himself to sleep. 

When he awoke the next day, his messages were unanswered. He felt his heart twist in his chest painfully and made the resolution that he had to go back to see him in person. 

The streets of their land were painfully bare, Purpled noted with sore, hurting eyes as he made his way down for the first time in nearly four months. His movements were unsteady, mostly after the longevity of his stay in solitude catching up to him through vertigo. He felt slightly nauseous as he navigated through the paths, taking note of the builds that he had slowly seen dot the lands. 

He made his way over to the community house, most familiar to him in his current state. He walked past the large stone ’Walmart’ that had been built, making his way around Punz’s estate. Purpled felt a wave of dizziness, stopping in his tracks to lean against the wall, eyes squeezed shut to regain his balance. His stomach grumbled familiarly, a common trend for the past two weeks or so. 

Dream had to be around the area somewhere, Purpled reasoned, shaking his head slightly as he got back up and continued walking, night already starting to fall as he made his way through the large area. The walk was already long as is, but paired with the fact that he was slower than usual, he was sure nightfall would come before he reached the home. 

Purpled was tired, really. Tired of fear and hunger and paranoia and death and explosions and flashbacks that left him dizzy and shaky. He was tired of doing everything on his own, and he just needed someone to rely on for once, so he could cut the strings on his self-made puppet and just let himself cry. 

His pace picked up slightly as he finally caught sight of the roof of the community house in the distance, smoke curling upwards into inky skies as he spotted a fire far off. Purpled was excited, eyes brightening for the first time in a very long time as he felt his breathing clear for a moment. 

He could imagine Dream’s arms around him now, finding himself with a teary smile as he pulled down the hood of his cloak when he had reached the cobblestone path of the community house. Purpled opened the door slowly, finding it darkened save for a sparing amount of torches set up around the room. He looked up from the chests he had glanced at as the door opened, meeting George’s gaze with a hopeful look. 

The man in question tipped his head to the side slightly, moving his goggles away from his eyes to examine the teen. After a hopeful moment, George nodded slightly, moving past him to open a chest and root through it idly. 

Purpled blinked. Looked to George again, who had grabbed a couple of potatoes and threw them in a pouch. He cleared his throat a bit, drawing his attention. 

  
“George?” Purpled cringed slightly, voice hoarse from disuse. “Is… Is Dream here?” George hummed slightly, nodding before he made his way out again. 

Purpled found himself taken aback at the reaction, blinking in slowed surprise. 

Was… Was his presence that insignificant? That he could disappear for four months and be greeted with a shrug and no words? 

There was a sinking feeling in his chest as he pulled out his communicator, scrolling to his messages with Dream. 

_ can i come over?  _

Purpled stood with bated breath, listening to the laughter from the fire trail off for a moment before getting a message. 

_ in a meeting. dont bother me _

He bit his lip harshly, feeling tears burn in his eyes before pushing them back in exchange for anger, pushing away the hurt in favour of lashing out. Purpled set his communicator away with shaking hands, leaving through the same door that he saw George enter through. He could distinctly see Dream sitting across the fire with George, Sapnap, Punz, and even a couple of the L’manbergian residents. 

Fundy was laughing along with them, Eret sitting by them with Tommy and Tubbo seated cross-legged across them. Even Niki was there, rooting through a picnic basket with gentle hands as she examined pastries. 

Purpled could see the moment Dream realized he was staring from the shadows of the community house, eyes widening as he locked eyes with purple ones filled with angry tears. Dream stood up almost as soon as he saw him, beginning to walk forward to the teen before he shook his head harshly, wiping at his eyes. 

At this point, the others had noticed his presence, gazes trailing to him nervously. Eret had a hand on his sword and Fundy was curled away from the teen in the shadows. Only Tommy and Tubbo had really recognized him, looking as though they were ready to scramble up from where they were sitting to tackle him. 

“So,” Purpled broke the uncomfortable silence. “Important meeting?” Dream winced at the words, stepping forward to make his way around the fire. 

“Purpled-” 

“I don’t want to hear it!” He interrupted, voice raising in the slightest as he stood tall. “I just- I can see where I’m not wanted, alright?” Dream tilted his head to the side slightly, moving to stand in front of him and reaching forward to pull his arms away from his face gently. Purples shoved his arms aside harshly, pushing down a sob that threatened to bubble through. 

“Purpled, we  _ want  _ you here. Of course, we do, why wouldn’t we?” Dream’s voice was soft and kind, and usually, Purpled would take it as such, but it just felt mocking now. 

“Stop  _ lying  _ to me!” He exclaimed, pushing at him as Dream stayed unmoving. “You- All you’ve done is ignore me and lie and- and you stopped coming around and no one even noticed I was gone, no one  _ cared _ -” Purpled’s voice broke embarrassingly, fighting to pull his wrists from Dream’s grip, pushing at Dream’s chest as he spoke.

“I- You just stopped  _ caring,  _ Dream. I needed you and you weren’t there. And you wouldn’t come when I needed you and when I asked for your help. I  _ needed  _ you.” Purpled’s voice wobbled, going small as he leaned against Dream’s chest, forehead pressing against his shoulder as the man pulled his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry, kid, I really am,” Dream said softly into his hair, “I lost sight of what was important for a while. That isn’t an excuse, I know, but I’m  _ sorry. _ ” Purpled’s arms growing tighter around him, his hands gripping the back of his clothes tightly. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he finally let free a cry that he had been holding back for a while. 

He was warm, Purpled found, for the first time in a long, long time. And it hadn’t been because of the fire, he assumed. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Or maybe some heavy angst for Quackity based around his and schlatts relationship?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for implied/referenced suicide ideation at the very end (its the last line in italics and brackets if u want to skip over) and another warning for abuse/violence midway through the chapter. if this bothers you, it'd be best to skip this chapter altogether. stay safe!

Contrary to popular belief, Quackity is not a weak-willed soul who would rather cower in the walls of his White House than stand up true and proud at the forefront of the country he co-owned. 

He knew that to the residents of Manberg, he was nothing but an accessory of Schlatt’s to toy with, something used for entertainment and to laugh at; to point and grin and humiliate him as a saving grace under the dictator’s solid grasp. It’d be a relief for them, to see him beaten down and weak as they thought he was intended to be. 

(“Look at poor Quackity, foolish soul with such little fire in his eyes, yanked around like a marionette with strings made of barbed wire and sewn-up smile through bloody teeth!”)

It didn’t matter his and Schlatt’s history, not anymore. The demi-god was something to be feared, after all, and no personal connections would ever erase the anger from his eyes that smouldered in his chest until smoke rose from the ground around him, emanating an aura that was threatening in nature and clogged up breathing, leaving eyes teary and noses runny. 

Quackity was not foolish enough to think that he was completely powerless against the residents of Manberg. He was skilled with the bow, and his survival in the most bloodthirsty of tournaments when he was just a teenager was a testament to his survivor’s instinct if anything. It was simply the mutual disliking of the citizens of him that had him constantly wary to try and reach out for help. Even thinking about it seemed like he was planning on walking into his own execution, bow on top. 

_ Maybe if he dressed himself as a present _ , the young adult thought hysterically, through tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.  _ Then they’d help me escape from this hell. _

Schlatt was not a kind ruler, not in the slightest. Every word of his had barbs hidden under the honey he promised, curved claws ready to sink into skin and hook poor souls towards him. The phrasing ‘Never make a deal with the Devil’ had come to mind but was it really a deal if, after three years, Quackity was held up to the wall and told that if he ever tries to run now, bloodhounds from the Underworld itself would track him down and tear his body to shreds?

So Quackity stayed, unwillingly and in constant fear, and pretended that he was happy to be there in the first place. There was little need for the citizens to know what was going on. If he needed to be the villain in their story to make themselves feel as though their contributions on a planet as large as this one meant something? So be it. He’d set himself up as the villain’s lackey, find himself amused with anything that had suggested bloodshed and death when in reality, he would gag and choke over the toilet as bile rose in his throat. 

(Flashbangs of light and fireworks, sparking his vision with blood and pain and blue and whites. Explosions of colour and a toppling podium that had nearly taken out his left eye. Sometimes he wondered if the world would be simpler should they all function with the analogy of an eye for an eye. He wondered whether he would be blind, or if his skin would slowly be torn away to repent for his countless sins. No, Quackity was far from innocent.)

In the end, there’s little he can do, and he knows it for sure after Tubbo finds him in the aftermath of an argument with Schlatt. 

The demi-god had been rambling about expansion once more as he hooked golden chains onto his horns, detailing just how he wanted to take advantage of the flora that had surrounded Manberg from all sides. Said it would be scenic, and taking advantage of the terrain that had been gifted to him as a blessing for his newfound democratic position. Quackity doubted that Demeter would aid in this quest of fire and destruction, yet said nothing. Who was he to question someone with ichor in their veins? 

Quackity had made an off-hand comment, as he was so used to doing only months before they discovered Manberg. Something that he couldn’t remember clearly now, though he was certain he had mentioned Dream in the makings. It had made Schlatt freeze up, stare at him with unsettling red eyes that he would rather never see again in his life than ever have directed at him. 

  
And then screaming, screaming and shouting and yells of,  _ “You think that stupid fucking demi-god will stand a chance against me?”  _ and  _ “Such brevity for a mortal, such fickle lives and stupid little heads, good for nothing and no one. _ ” 

And his back thudded against a wall, a hand lifting him by the collar of his shirt as Quackity stared the ram in the eyes, shaking harshly. He scoffed, throwing him to the side and kicking his ribs for further measure, pressing a foot into his back as the younger scrambled to get up before he could be trapped in that position any longer. His chin was pushed into wood, and Schlatt knelt down to pull his head up by the hair, slicing thin cuts into the skin of his neck with clawed hands that had begun bleeding almost immediately after letting him go. 

And Quackity scrambled up, hand pressed to his neck and left the house hurriedly, blinking rapidly as tears that he tried to hold back escaped his eyes anyway, dotting the ground with red splotches that left a trail to him clear as day on the wooden path of their city. He wondered, not for the first time, why he had ever trusted his life in the hands of a demi-god who had simply taken pity on him. 

He passed by Tubbo, at one point, as he stumbled back to his old home. It was empty at the moment, but it wasn’t something that he could write off completely. He knew he had a basic first aid kit, and that it would provide a warm bed that he could cower in for a night before returning to Schlatt. 

“Quackity…?” The child said hesitantly as he passed by, reaching out a hand to his arm. At the flinch that followed, he recoiled, eyes unsure and body language mirroring the fear that Quackity had felt not too long ago. He gave Tubbo a half-grin, though he knew that it was weak and the blood leaking from between his fingers had stained his image of collective calmness instantly. 

“Don’t worry about it, Tubbo. Just an accident.” The words hung heavy between the two of them, Tubbo not moving from where he stood. Quackity could see the cogs turning in his brain as he stared at him. It was amusing, if not a little nostalgic. He briefly remembered being told that the child was smarter than anyone his age, and Redstone skills that had proved it. 

Tubbo nodded slowly at last, eyes dawning with a sad understanding that had left him jarred for a moment. The younger moved his hands back to his sides, stepping aside to make more space for him. “Stay safe, Quackity. Try not to get in any more accidents, yeah?” Quackity nodded. 

“I won’t.” 

Between the two of them, the words had never tasted more like a lie. 

  
( _ Between the stars and Quackity himself, he wondered if a sinner like him would be rewarded Elysium should he bring his pain to an end. _ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels a little short, but im definitely happy with it. hope u liked reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ooo maybe some dream centric angst?? Like dream sacrificing himself for his friends (whoever you want) and gets seriously injured. Altho tbh im a sucker for any type of dream centric angst uwu"

The skies that overtook Dream’s land were foggy, as though they were insinuating the oncoming onslaught of war and blood that would soon plague the fields of his fair country. 

The war that had panned out between Jschlatt and the citizens of Pogtopia was never something that he could say hadn’t been expected, because to a certain degree, he always knew that the moment new souls step foot on his land, there’d be ideals that clashed and tempers that crossed each other. It was nothing short of a fickle child’s dream to assume that once L’manberg had been granted its independence that the war would cease in its steps. 

There are always aftereffects, rippling through the waters of peace and prosperity with the promise of fighting and slaughtering that would follow in the throes of a civil war. Dream had always anticipated the idea of another power suction, though he expected it from Skeppy and Bad as a duo in comparison to the banished ram hybrid. 

Bad and Skeppy were terrifying in and of itself, despite popular belief amongst the newer members of Dream’s lands. The pair hadn’t had the chance to introduce to their newer immigrants exactly why they had garnered such a reputation amongst the Far Lands, but it wasn’t long before Schlatt had come along to steal the scene once more. Dream thought it would have been at least a little funny to see the two assumed archangels take charge of the L’manberg borders, but this was what they had to settle with. 

From a leader’s perspective, the Election had been a terrible idea. Wilbur had a solid place at the head of his country, and the citizens were content with him as their leader, seeing his passion as he and Tommy led them through war and ensured they got out with minimal injuries and a shaky peace treaty that Dream had been planning to uphold. Their nation was most unstable directly after the war, and after a couple of months of rebuilding, Dream thought it was idiotic that they would consider upsetting the fragile balance they had in power. 

What Dream hadn’t expected from all this was George to so easily take Schlatt’s side. He remembered that at one point he had come home to the community house and found George standing in the shadows, hands clutching his goggles as he stared into his reflection and examined his eyes. Dream had walked closer, resting a hand on his shoulder and questioning if he was alright. There was a sad look in his eyes as he answered with a small shake of his head, that suggested he hadn’t been alright in a long time. 

He had thought that at some point, they would once more be able to gather the three of them into the group they had always been. Dream knew that Sapnap had been far off from their lands, searching for an Archive’s tale of portals and lands of End people that held forbidden cities and a monster unlike any other. There was something that had immediately taken his attention when he had heard the story, and Dream knew that it wouldn’t be long before Sapnap had left as well. 

The two had remained his closest friends, of course. But with Dream’s stance in the civil war that had been occurring now, he knew he would be forced to go up against George, or watch from the sidelines and be rendered powerless to help his comrade since childhood. It was a lose-lose, but he figured that standing on the front lines with Wilbur would prove to leave him with more control than not.

Dream narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he stared to the other side, surveying their opposition. Schlatt, at the forefront. Punz, Ponk, Purpled, and George lining his sides. On their side, they had Tommy, Wilbur, Quackity, and himself. Techno had opted to leave himself out of the conflict, as the man had gone missing only a few days after the festival. Dream could assume that it had to do with the consequences of attacking Tommy’s closest friend that had left him to ponder his actions. 

As a horn blew sadly throughout the lands, Dream knew that he could stall no longer. 

The first hit of his axe embedded itself in George’s shield, lifted just as he had swung down. The look he had been given from over the lip of the fortified wood burned through the sunglasses and forced him to relax involuntarily. The first few moments were spent silent, the two titans pushing against each other with narrowed eyes and fury that smouldered quietly under their shoulders. 

Until at one point, Dream had stumbled over his feet and planted his face into the backside of his raised shield, hitting his mask harshly. “Fuck, my _nose!_ ” He swore. A small laugh echoed his words as George held a hand in front of his mouth across him. The two stopped in their tracks for a moment, staring at each other for a moment.

The two came to an understanding only a few seconds after, and Dream was glad that he had the mask to hide his face as a smile spread across his face. 

This was out of their jurisdiction, they both realized. And there was little that would affect them from the outcome of the squabble. Schlatt only had so much influence behind the scenes of their lands, and Dream held an iron fist over the entire nation that couldn’t be shaken, even in the face of Eret’s kingship and Schlatt’s presidential position. 

The two fell into a familiar rhythm, almost reminiscent of their spars before the manhunts they had started training for so harshly. When things were still for fun and the fighting was punctuated with laughs and smiles rather than screams and cries. It was easy to pretend that it was just the two of them amongst the crowd. 

George swung his sword down at Dream’s mask, the man sidestepping and swinging a leg down that George had slid back from, shield held up protectively as the axe hit the shield again. He yanked the axe out of the shield, moving back as a sword swiped at his chest, knocking against his chest plate with a clang. Dream laughed out of habit, a smile creeping up on George’s face as the two continued their delicate dance of sidestepping, stabbing, swinging and pushing past each other. 

Dream’s attention was only yanked away from him when he spotted the shine of enchantments from the corner of his eyes, his gaze moving from George to Schlatt, pointed towards the man’s back. There was a split second where his eyes met the ram’s, yellow meeting green and resolve settling in both their eyes. 

There was very little that he wouldn’t do for his friends. He had given them all the gold and silver they had needed since he had met them and knew that there was no breaking their bond. He had supplied them with potions, weapons, protection, armour. He had even given them sanctuary between battles and food to keep them alive and well. 

Most of it had been reciprocated through affection and love that could rival a city’s. George and Sapnap had time and time again proven that they were his to protect, his to take care of, and he was theirs to make fun of and hold close to their chests. Ever since they were just children, Dream knew that there was little he wouldn’t do for them. 

Dream could easily say he would take an arrow for George in a heartbeat. 

He bodily shoved George out of the way, shield knocking him down as the arrow released from the crossbow. There was a confused cry from George, but it didn’t register when a solid thunk had sounded from his chest, a sharp pain piercing his chest as he stumbled to a stop, hand hovering over his chest as he crumpled to his knees. He felt as though he had been sent under an ocean that had been tugging him down endlessly. 

There was a screech from the sidelines that sounded far off as he was flipped to his side gently, panicked voices joining the throes of voices that had left his head throbbing with pain. He could faintly register George’s and Purpled’s voices increasing in volume and speed as fear bled into them. 

“-Don’t you fucking dare fall asleep on me, don’t you dare, you _asshole,_ I swear to fucking god you aren’t going to fucking do this to me-” George’s voice cut in through the feeling of water clogging his ears that had been surrounding him. 

A sharp pain in his chest echoed once more, gasping as his body jolted. It was easier to breathe after a moment, and he could register cool air over his face as the light behind his eyelids became brighter. With gentle hands and apologies that were repeated over and over as though it were gospel, Dream slowly felt himself get tilted up, head resting on someone’s chest as he felt cool glass touch his lips. 

The taste of golden melons stained his tongue, rusting like blood and sending jolts of cold spikes down his spine, shivering against the body that had been holding him carefully. He could feel the unnatural stitching of his skin connecting itself once more, drowsiness surrounding him as he felt tired up to the brim of his eyes. 

Purpled’s voice cut in once more, whispered apologies repeating themselves as he realized it was the teen’s chest he was resting on. Dream had long since tuned out the fight that had surrounded them, mostly stopping once the man had been shot in the chest by Schlatt. 

Dream fought to speak up, trying to reassure him that _yes, it was fine, he understood he was scared and he knew that war was never what he wanted, that he never wanted anyone hurt. That he would much rather everything just go back to normal and things are the way it was when it was just them and George, Sapnap, Alyssa, Ponk, Punz, and Sam._ There was a lot he wanted to say that wouldn’t make it past his buzzing lips. 

A hand reached over to grab his own, squeezing gently as he felt Purpled shift back and his body lifted up gently in strong, slender arms that cradled him. 

Through blurry eyes, George’s glasses were mirrored back to him and he knew he was safe as he let himself fall into a dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this wasnt that good as it could have been, but ive been stuck on this for a while so i decided to just go for it. i hope I'll enjoy! don't forget that u can always request more <3 its great practice for me and i enjoy the ideas i get from the prompts


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ” Maybe something happens to Techno and then Tubbo helps/comforts him, but later Techno has to kill or injure Tubbo and he’s just not able to. ”

Technoblade would not consider himself one to need help all that often, and the reputation he held close to his chest was something that ended up proving that point as well. Favours were something that he never learned to take lightly, the soul-binding magic behind life debts proving to be something not to be toyed with. He had already gotten himself and another stuck in one on accident when he was young and foolish, only just venturing from his father’s careful instruction. The smell of potatoes still made him sick sometimes, but his hands would follow the familiar actions that he was bound to. 

His reluctance to ask for help was his downfall, in some cases. He had refused to take Phil’s help when he had first been set against Dream to prove his place on the throne, nor did he take Wilbur’s help when it had come to his life debt and the possible trials he would have to go through to break it. There was nothing that he couldn’t do, at this point. Every supply he had he had found, every ore he found he had mined himself, every weapon he had was painstakingly crafted. Techno had even trained himself to wield magic and soul energy to bind only the deepest and darkest of power and magic into his tools and armour. 

Techno took to a betrayal as a fish did to water, it was easy enough to get used to after the Tournaments that had plagued his life for nearly a year to get to the throne. He had fought alongside many companions only to find them swinging a blade at his throat the next time he was close to winning, determined to have the throne for themselves. 

If he was honest, he was willing to share the throne with whoever had stayed loyal by his side at the end of the trials they would go through. It was something of a wish that he held close to himself that he would never let anywhere near his lips in fear of it slipping it. The life he led was lonely, incredibly so, except for Phil and the others. They hadn’t been as close at the time of the Tournaments, but it was just a hurdle he had to accept was too tall to get over and leave it at that. 

With the exception of Phil, not one of them had failed to betray him and attempt to take the winnings for their own. It was what had led him to invite the man back to rule over the Antarctic Empire he had earned through combat and blood. The year he had spent fighting was so repetitive that the faces blended into one and he had never known who had made it out alive and who had simply died by his hand. 

It should have alarmed him much more, and it had used to, to be fair. But his skin grew thick and his eyes wary, so he learned to ignore it and steel himself against the souls he had doomed. He was fully self-sufficient after Phil had taught him all he needed to know, spending countless hours touring the Capitol and his private plots of land to learn of things that he could only imagine were possible. 

There was very little he needed from others, so why did he feel so alone? 

It was this that had led him to his current state, red cape set aside and shirt half-unbuttoned as he swung his legs over a wooden bridge, water only a couple of feet downwards. The railings were long since chopped through, only a few posts remaining that proved to be more cosmetic than useful. The moon shone over the ridges of his mask, slightly loosened from its tightened grip it usually had on its face. 

His hands rested on his stomach, back pressed against the wooden boards of the bridge with an air of melancholy that served to wash over him like honey, filling his mouth and nose with sticky sweetness that proved to bitter his taste buds. It surrounded him more than it did usually, tugging at his chest in a way that was unfamiliar to him. Techno wasn’t used to the feeling, though he couldn’t figure out why it had plagued him now. 

The ambiance of the night had only been broken by soft footsteps, light and rapid as they echoed through the empty lands, crickets accenting the decorum. Techno could recognize Tubbo’s footsteps anywhere, so he simply stayed where he was, exposed to him with a vulnerability that was new for him. 

(He knew that he could take him down in a lightning-fast strike, fireworks loaded and axe practically vibrating with the dark magic that thrummed with power. He was untouchable still.)

Tubbo didn’t hesitate to come and sit down next to him, as the younger often did. Techno had noticed that about the teenager. His brevity in the face of those some would consider dangerous beasts was something that Techno didn’t know whether he should be admirable of or consider incredibly stupid. His ego called for him to be upset that he wouldn’t quiver at the sight of him, but a gentler part of him that had been calloused over by scars wished for the soft trust the younger would give one and all. He had already ruined his chance of redemption, there was little point in trying to get an apology out after the fireworks disaster. He just wasn’t sure why Tubbo was here now. 

He took a seat next to Techno, shifting so he was a foot apart and lay himself down to stare up at the stars alongside him. Techno breathed out slowly, feeling Tubbo’s breaths slowing to a snail's pace. He could almost imagine the younger fell asleep by him if it weren’t for their uncomfortable history. 

“Do you know any different languages, Techno?” Tubbo asked softly, breaking the quiet peace that had grown between them. The man turned his head over to the younger, who had his arms laying on his stomach parallel to each other, eyes shut in a remorseful bliss. Techno hummed quietly, turning back to the inky sky dotted with stars. 

“A bit of everything from the Nether region. Can write out some of the Realm Travellers letters, and know most Enchanting languages. And some Spanish,” He listed off nonchalantly. Tubbo nodded at the answer, falling silent for a moment. 

“Quackity was raised with Spanish as a first language, so he always tried to teach me some while I was in the office with him. He’d come in while I was trying to read the paperwork, sit at the edge of my desk, and be like, ‘Oh, could you try saying this for me? It means, uhh… you’re my best friend.’ I think he did it to distract me from whatever Schlatt was doing in his office, probably getting wasted. Or distract himself, I dunno.”

Techno stayed silent as he rattled off the story slowly, letting him speak with little interruption. Tubbo took this into account, continuing. 

“There was this one song in particular, that Quackity would sing whenever he had decided to come to the docks with me. It was something he told me his mother had sung a long, long time ago with his dad. I don’t remember the lyrics all that well, but there were some English bits that I recognized.” Tubbo paused in his story, wetting his lips as he tried to gather words, eyes open as he stared up at the sky. Techno had turned to face him at this point, eyes unblinking. 

“I think it was at that point I realized I had a one-sided view of the world, maybe. I didn’t realize that Quackity was… human. Till he told me that story and spoke about his parents. He had parents like I had, childhood as I did. He had his own decisions to make, his way of thinking, the same way I did. The universe centred around himself the way it did for me.” 

Tubbo sat up, waiting for Techno to sit up as well, the man following afterwards. 

“I think what I’m getting at is that I had to consider that there aren’t really villains and heroes in this type of story. Just people who have to deal with things they shouldn’t have to. One of those people was you, I think.” Techno paused in his staring of the stars, facing Tubbo as the younger’s serene face sent a shiver down his spine. It was something he hadn’t encountered before, and it felt tender in a way he hadn’t thought was possible for someone like him. 

“I want to look you in the eyes, Techno,” Tubbo said, voice not holding a quiver in it as he stared up at the man the way he always did, ever since he had been found by Tommy’s side when the blond first brought him over to their residence. 

Techno bowed his head slightly, eyes shutting as he felt Tubbo’s hands gently peel away the straps that held it so tight to his face, ever-so-careful with the mask as he set aside near the middle of the bridge so it wouldn’t fall. Techno found his hands being held by Tubbo’s, the younger forcing him to lock eyes as he squeezed his calloused palms. 

“I forgive you for what you had to do that day, Techno,” Tubbo said softly, watching him with blue eyes that seemed so genuine that Techno couldn’t find it in himself to argue. He simply nodded, once. Techno squeezed his hands back once, and Tubbo took it as agreement enough to smile, pulling back one hand to lie back down, laying his arm over his stomach once more. The other remained in Techno’s grasp, light and trusting. Techno hesitated before speaking quietly, voice a familiar monotone. 

“I didn’t want to do it,” He said quietly. 

“I know,” Tubbo replied. There was little hesitation in his voice. 

Techno found himself wondering what the Heavens had to curse to compensate for Tubbo’s place in his life, how someone as bad as him could ever begin to deserve the kindness that he was being given for free. 

His eyes returned to the stars once more. His mask laid still on the bridge. The crickets chirped on. 

… 

Techno wondered why it was always him, always here. The universe had a habit of throwing him into frustratingly tormenting situations that managed to screw with him further than he had already been. The Gods had to have been laughing at him now, pondering the irony of the same man cursed to face down his friend with a crossbow being blessed by Eirene as a child born in the embers of dying fires and purpled obsidian that cried at his descent into the Earth he roamed. 

His crossbow was pointed to Tubbo once more, fireworks loaded into it with shaking hands that refused to stop shaking. He could see the trust in his eyes bright as day under the shine of the sun, despite how far he was from the man. Tubbo as expressive as he was trusting in the best from people he had known for a long, long time. Techno wasn’t sure if he fell into that category, unsure of his place in the younger’s life. 

(He was unsure of his place in life, let alone Tubbo’s; some days it seemed easier to let the winds take him where they pleased and the currents storm over him with emotions that he kept under lock and key. There was so much brewing under his skin and so little holding him back from disappearing. 

The few people that did, however, were strong in their convincing arguments. They were family, the few that hadn’t betrayed them. They were the few that Techno trusted with his life, despite there only being three of them. He knew that there was little he could do with them by his side.)

When Techno had first come with the intention of helping, there was one thing that he had told the two of his brothers when he had come alongside them. He had told them that he was there to abolish the government in place and ensure there wouldn’t be one at all. The two of them had nodded, agreed, and proceeded to introduce him to their plans. 

They had been preoccupied with their nation, of course. Techno could understand that. There were days where they would barely acknowledge each other simply due to stress and hurting and stinging betrayals that Techno didn’t understand. He didn’t blame them for their dismissal of each other, nor their dismissal of him. 

What he didn’t understand was their ignorance of his one request when the war had come to fruition. When Schlatt had reached his imminent doom, he had been pleased with himself. It was anticlimactic, sure, but his goal was achieved. There was no government in place. No destructive hierarchy was similar to the other lands he had travelled, only friends that would grow to rebuild the lands. 

The anger that had flooded him was immeasurable as he saw Wilbur hand off the presidency to Tommy. The rage that had quivered in his limbs had left his lightheaded for a moment, and he couldn’t hold back a small inhale of air that had attempted to calm him down in vain. 

Tommy had handed off the presidency to the last person he wished it was, and the younger had found himself at the podium with a hopeful lilt in his voice and a shine of new beginnings in his eyes. 

And Techno was ready with fireworks once more, ready to shoot down the same teenager who had forgiven him so easily before. 

He could spot Dream in the corner of his eyes, looking to Tubbo with a mirthful gaze that could burn cities and tear apart nations in a second with dark magic and bitterness that could set fire to the souls of hundreds before him. Techno’s gaze moved back to Tubbo, who hadn’t noticed him so far. He was seated near the back, silently moving to a standing position and arming his weapon. Techno was ready to take him down where he stood, stop the madness before he stopped. He trained his crosshair onto Tubbo’s chest, one eye shut as he squinted, and-

His hands shook. 

Techno blinked once, moving his weapon down from Tubbo to stare at his fingers. His hands shook, trembling like never before as he felt a cold wave wash over his chest with an iron grip. He could feel his eyes grow wet, though he would never admit that he had cried over a murder before. It would be so simple to end everything, stop the second tyrant in a second. 

The way the world worked was cruel and painful to those who should win. He had known this, he always had. The story of Theseus echoed in his ears every time he helped his citizens under the Antarctic Empire, every time he decided that he would end up becoming the good guy in the eyes of his people. Techno knew that there was no point in being a hero, no point in loving as though he were deserving of it. 

But Tubbo, despite the stories he knew, the myths that he had found comfort in as a child, and the story of Theseus he memorized, Tubbo was kind. Kind and selfless and forgiving in a way that wouldn’t be found again. He wasn’t meant for the presidency he was being given. The presidency wasn’t meant for this country, and this country was never meant to be. He raised his crossbow, and his hands shook. 

His hands shook, and crickets echoed in his ears. 

His hands shook, and the moon fell on his bare face as fireflies flit around his face. 

His hands shook, and Tubbo was staring at him with blue eyes and gentle trust and calloused hands that held his own and promised forgiveness and offered stories of friends and love and things he hadn’t heard of in so, so long paired with a warmth that burned hotter than the Underworld itself. 

Techno lowered his weapon, and his hands stilled. 

His hands stilled, and the world was blown to pieces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im ngl i rlly enjoyed writing this, especially after the streams from the other day. I hope u enjoyed this as well! im slowly beginning to get thru the requests i have piling up, so don’t feel bad abt asking if u have some ideas still! as for the other unfinished fics, ill get to them. thanks for reading, please feel free to comment!


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